


nothing else but this

by ndnickerson



Series: nothing else but this [1]
Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: F/M, Nancy Drew On Campus, Oral Sex, Porn Battle, Porn With Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Second Chances, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3386792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written during the amnesty period for Porn Battle IX; prompts: third, stairs, moonlight, ribbon, carpet. After Ned earns his degree he's ready for a new start, but he finds not everything is so easy to leave behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing else but this

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published in July 2012; for a while I had it available on Amazon, but I decided to revert to its original format. Enjoy. :)

It's the third apartment in the city Ned has viewed. It's in his price range and it's not so bad. He'll have to put in a few days of hard work to get it cleaned up and in good shape, but it's a basement apartment being rented out by an elderly couple who want someone dependable and responsible as their first tenant, and in his button-down and freshly washed jeans, Ned fits the bill. He leaves them with a promise that he'll bring by the application in the morning, but he can see in their faces that if they can come to an agreement, the apartment will be his. He'll just have to wait a few months for the crazy housewarming party.

He has no intention of planning a crazy housewarming party. But he knows too many Omega Chi brothers in and around Chicago for it to turn into anything less.

Mike met him for beers after, and while the buzz has mostly worn off by the time Ned reaches his parents' house, he's still in a good mood. He'll be so much closer to work, and for the first time he'll be out on his own. No parents—he loves his parents dearly but the three weekends he's been home since he graduated college have been packed with chores and errands—and no frat parties and no studying. No catcalls when he brings a girl to his room.

Well, he _will_ miss that, a little.

He's just selecting the housekey from his keyring when he pauses and looks to his left, to the porch swing.

He's not sure if she made a noise or if he was just suddenly aware of her, but she's sitting there on the swing and the world shifts under him, just slightly.

He doesn't mentally call her the one who got away. She's the one he never really thought he could hold, and when they broke up that last ugly, messy time, part of him had been convinced of the inevitability of it all. He held onto her for so long, so much longer than he ever thought he would. He always worried about her and she always resented it. She doesn't need a guy who wants to protect her; she needs a guy who can hop the Atlantic or Pacific on the trail of a case without responsibilities, without a second thought. But he's just not that guy.

A year and a half of the occasional email, text message, and very rare phone call have softened the bitterness, and when Nancy stands and steps into the halo of the porch light, Ned isn't expecting the little jolt he feels in his heart. He's made his peace with the fact that he'll always, in some small way, be in love with her. But he's no longer at Emerson—the two cases she took there after their breakup had been brief and heartwrenching in their own way, seeing her on campus and remembering all they used to share—and even though his parents and her father still live so close to each other, he still hadn't been expecting to see her again.

Definitely not like this, not with her obviously planning their meeting.

Ned lowers his hand to his side with a faint jingle of his keys and just watches her, studying her face, trying to predict the next words out of her mouth. _I need your help_ seems like a good bet. _I'm on a new case_ is almost guaranteed. _I miss you_ , well... when that sentiment was only whispered at the end of one alcohol-soaked conversation, with her lolling on the porch of a frat at Wilder, two a.m. on a drunk dial, he had given up on hearing it again. Even though he had whispered it in return.

_I miss you too, Nan._

He tamps that feeling down and gives her an easy smile. "Fancy meeting you here."

She nods. "It is a little out-of-the-way place," she plays along. "One chance in a million I'd see you here. Guess I'm a lucky girl."

Ned chuckles. "So how can I help you?"

She shakes her head, then raises an eyebrow. "You mean... oh. No, I'm not looking for any favors. Just wanted to catch up with you, and I was... in the area."

He considers pointing out that she knows his phone number, that if she's on a case in Mapleton she probably _is_ asking for his help, and then gives it up. "Summer vacation get you down that fast, Drew?"

She smiles and brushes her hair back. "Actually... I'm not at Wilder anymore," she admits. "So no summer vacation for me. I'm actually working on my licensure—I have another two years with the agency and then I can apply."

"Two years?" he says, incredulous.

"Yeah. They require three years on the job before I can become a full-fledged—"

"But you have how many years under your belt?"

She smiles at him again. "Yeah, for some reason they don't count all that," she says, tilting her head. "I don't know why. I think if it were up to Chief McGinnis I would have been licensed years ago. Mostly so he could boss me around or threaten to take it away if I disobeyed him."

Ned smiles. "So the upside is...?"

She shrugs. Her eyes... her eyes used to be different. There's a guarded expression there that she didn't have before, when they were together. "I guess if it means doing what I love, I can put up with all that pesky law-abiding," she says.

They sit down on the porch swing, and before Ned realizes what he's doing he tells her about the apartment, the one he hopes to be moving into soon. She seems interested, and he can't remember the last time he saw her actually in the moment with him—and then he does. When they talked over cases, going over theories of the crime, motivations for the various suspects. Even then, though, their voices had overlapped in their eagerness, and most of the time she had just seemed to wait for him to stop talking so she could start.

"That sounds great, Ned," she says with a smile when he trails off, wondering just what to do with his hands, just how soon he can ask her what she's _really_ doing here. "I can't believe you're actually finished at Emerson—although at least now you're a lot closer to the city, and that must be nice."

"And that's where you are?"

She nods. "Yeah, I—"

She cuts herself off and he hears her phone vibrating in her pocket just before she pulls it out, checking the screen. She stands, still gazing at her phone. "Shit, I have to take this. Look, it—it's good to see you again. Maybe we'll run into each other?"

And she's trying to sound casual and mostly succeeding, but there's a question in her eyes that she's not quite asking.

"Yeah," he murmurs, looking up at her, and the smile she gives him in response is genuine.

\--

The carpet is musty, a dirty shag that was once an olive-green, but he asks Jane and Sonny's permission before he starts ripping it out anyway. The floor of the laundry room has apparently flooded a few times, Ned sees when he starts the work. He knows a guy whose uncle installs wood laminate and has promised to help, and his landlord seems to be delighted by the prospect. Well, if nothing else, they'll be able to charge a hell of a lot more when the next tenant moves in.

Mike, Howie, and Paul come in when Ned is halfway through the large living room space. They carry six-packs and cases of beer, grumble at the cooler serving as his temporary refrigerator and his lack of cable or even of a television set, but soon enough they set to work. Mike and Jan are looking at a place more centrally located in the city, while Howie will be heading back home soon, and Paul is just looking forward to his last year at Emerson and dreading a basketball season that doesn't include the three former players. The smaller bedroom is a bitch, and they open the high windows and turn on the fans and take their shirts off. When they get thirsty they bypass the bottled water in favor of the beer, and Paul suggests ordering a pizza before he realizes he's about to be late to a movie date.

Ned groans when Paul leaves. "Well hell. Now I want a pizza."

Mike nodded his agreement, glancing at the oven, which is easily older than Ned. "You sure any of this stuff works anyway, Nickerson?"

Ned shrugs. "Don't need an oven for beer or potato chips," he says, and Howie claps him on the back, nodding in agreement.

They've demolished an entire pizza between the three of them and are gazing in dismay at the master bedroom when Mike cocks his head. "That your cell, Ned?"

Ned turns from the bedroom he'll be moving into—apparently the grandkids were given the run of the basement and scribbled all over the walls with all the markers and crayons they could find; Sonny used the smaller bedroom for a wood shop and the shavings dug into the carpet in there were fun too—and finds his cell on the edge of the stove, the display just fading to blank.

_Hey Ned. Busy?_

_Kinda. Getting stuff straight at my new place. What's up? Out cat burgling? ;)_

_Haha, nope. Mind if I come see it?_

_It's srsly a disaster area. Guess you've seen worse tho. You can, yeah._

_Address?_

Mike chuckles when Ned returns. "Haven't seen that look on your face in a while, Nickerson. Got a girl coming over?"

"Hope she's got some friends," Howie says in his deep, rich voice, theatrically flexing his muscles.

"She does," Ned admits, "but I have a feeling it's just her tonight, boys."

"And what girl doesn't love a pile of musty carpet for a bed," Mike says, shaking his head. "You're slipping."

Ned chuckles. "Nothing like that is gonna happen. It's Nancy."

Ned doesn't miss the glance Mike and Howie exchange, and his best friend looks a little concerned. "So you two back together?" Mike says, a little more subdued.

Ned shakes his head. "Just... catching up with each other."

He picks up the hammer and heads in the direction of the master bedroom, and Howie and Mike follow, more slowly. "Well, much as I'd love to see... this," Howie says, carrying the paper towels and the bleach spray, "maybe we'll just duck out after this. I'd come over tomorrow, but I'm going to Summerfest—"

"You bastard, I wanted to go to that," Mike insists, with no heat. "Ugh. And Jan's taking me apartment hunting."

Part of him wants them to stay, as a buffer, but most of him doesn't. She texts again when she's closer and he tells her where to park, and when he hears her footsteps coming down the stairs outside, he's standing alone at the stove, halfway through another slice of pizza, a just-cracked beer on the counter.

"Wow, you weren't joking," she says when she walks in, glancing around. Then her eyes alight on his face. "Thanks... for letting me come over."

He shrugs, enjoying watching the way she checks out his bare chest with her peripheral vision, and by the time she looks back at his eyes, he's smirking just a little. She scrunches up her nose in reply.

"I know. It's so great it leaves you speechless," he says, after he swallows his bite. "Care for a tour? Piece of pizza?"

"I wouldn't mind a beer," she admits. "And maybe some pizza after the tour. I'll pay you back."

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it," he tells her, digging in the cooler for a beer. "Okay, so, kitchen..."

It's small, a two-bedroom one-bath, and when he takes her through he sees it through her eyes. The bedrooms are a little small, but the living room is big, the kitchen not too bad. He still has a lot of work to do, though, and he's apologetic.

"Well, it's _yours_ ," she points out. "And yeah, it needs work, but when you get the floor in and the walls painted and some furniture..."

He smiles. "Is that how it was with your place?"

She shakes her head. "I live with Dad, actually," she admits. "Dad doesn't make me pay rent, but I have to pay for my stuff now, and have you _seen_ how much telephoto lenses cost? Or a new set of tires?"

Ned chuckles, reaching for a fresh beer. As soon as he cracks it he realizes he'll probably need another hour to sober up before he can drive home already, but he shrugs and takes a sip anyway.

"It's not funny," she says, but her lips are quivering a little.

"Sucks to be a grown-up, huh," he says, patting her shoulder.

"You said something about pizza?"

After she devours a couple of slices, she tells him she'll be right back and goes out to her car, returning with what he recognizes as her overnight bag. She wore a peach chiffon top and a denim miniskirt when she walked in; she emerges from his bathroom a few moments later in a bleach-streaked pair of yoga pants and a Cubs t-shirt, gathering her hair into a ponytail.

"Give me another beer and let's see if we can't get all the carpet pulled up."

It's surreal, glancing over to see her using a crowbar to pull carpet up, shoving wisps of red-gold hair out of her eyes. She asks about the kitchen linoleum and he admits he planned on pulling that up too, and soon they're standing in the middle of a true disaster area, surrounded by piles of musty carpet and ripped linoleum, bare bulbs over their heads and nowhere to sit. Between she admits that she watched the Emerson championship game on cable and he tells her about it, and he asks what kind of cases she's been working on and she says she can't say much but they split another beer and she talks about trying to spot people lying about disability claims and running in-depth background checks and feeling frustrated when her hands are tied, following the damn letter of the law all the time.

"Wish we had a radio or something."

Ned glances at his watch. "Didn't think about that," he admits. "Plus I think Sonny and Jane head to bed early."

"Sonny and—?"

"Landlord."

She nods. "Almost as bad as living with your parents, huh," she comments, her eyes sparkling.

"Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, but here I could bring in a case of beer without feeling guilty, I can watch TV without being asked to mow the lawn..."

"It will be nice." The right leg of her yoga pants fall down from where she's rolled them up, glowing from the heat, and Ned resists the urge to tell her to just take them off, no one will care.

Because that makes him think of other nights, the way things used to be between them, and how tempting it would be if he had any stick of furniture in the apartment whatsoever, to fuck her against it.

"You free tomorrow?" he asks suddenly.

She tilts her head. "Gonna be back over here?"

He nods. "We aren't gonna start the floor until Monday and I thought I'd go ahead and get the walls washed and painted."

"Sounds like a lot of work, Nickerson." That old gleam is in her eye, the way she responds to a challenge. " _If_ I'm free... what do I get in return?"

He shrugs, his dark eyes direct on hers. "Name your price, Drew."

Her gaze drops and he sees her take out her phone, checking the display. Her mouth twists just a little when she reads the text message making her phone vibrate angrily in her hand. "I will," she says, then glances back up at him. "You staying here, or you need a ride home?"

Getting drunk was so much easier at the frat, and it'll be even easier here, once he has a bed to collapse into. He knows he shouldn't drive, so he tells her he'll stay until he sobers up, but she shakes her head.

"With that look on your face, you'll fall asleep on that stack of nasty carpet and wake up with rugburn in the morning," she insists. "C'mon, let's eat a little more pizza and go."

"But your text, you need to go somewhere..." Maybe she doesn't. "Meeting someone after this?"

She shakes her head, opening the pizza box to offer him a slice. "Not meeting anyone, and I'm taking your drunk ass home. End of discussion."

They roll down the windows and Ned smiles at the night, the traffic as Nancy navigates out of the city, down through River Heights to Mapleton. He remembers another night when they were drunk out of their minds at Emerson, at a frat party, back before they had ever slept together, back when the brush of his hand against the bare small of her back would make her gaze at him wide-eyed, a flush in her cheeks.

She's humming along with the radio when he murmurs, "So, you seeing anyone?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not. It's kind of amazing, how absolutely no one else on earth seems to be as patient as you were with me."

"I wasn't all _that_ patient."

"You were a saint, in comparison." His parents have left the porch light on for him, and he turns to tell her goodnight, but she's turning off the car, opening her own door.

He isn't even sure how many times he walked her to her father's door, and it's strange for her to walk him to his porch, her hand just below his elbow. "I'm all right," he says, a little gruffly, and when she starts to pull her hand back he grabs it, holding it as they walk to the door.

"You're always all right, until you're bent over the toilet."

"That was _years_ ago," he says, and they stop but he doesn't let her hand go.

She swallows and looks down when they face each other under the porch light. "Ned, I was wrong," she says, and then her gaze finds his. "After how awful it... everything... I know I hurt you, and you probably don't..."

He crooks his finger under her chin and tilts her head up. "Just say it," he murmurs.

"I hate the way things ended," she whispers. "And if it's having you as a friend or not having you in my life at all, and if I fucked this up too much, then I'll live with it, but... do you think maybe we could try again? That you could give me a second chance? I know I don't deserve it," she rushes to add.

Ned smiles. "I knew it. I knew as soon as you saw my incredibly sweet basement apartment that you'd be—"

She chuckles at his mock-gloating expression, pushing his shoulder. "You read me like a book," she says teasingly.

He squeezes her hand. "Honestly... I don't know," he admits. "It's been a long time, and we've both changed... and if it doesn't make sense for us to be together..."

She nods. "I know I changed," she murmurs. "That was part of why I left Wilder."

At that, he definitely can't go inside. He leads her over to the swing and tries not to collapse into it, but he bumps it anyway and they scramble clumsily onto the seat, chuckling quietly. He feels even more buzzed than he did when they left.

"Why did you leave?"

"I didn't know who I was anymore," she says. "I didn't _like_ who I was anymore. Everything had turned into such massive bullshit. Bess and George—"

"Are they still there?"

"George is. Bess..." Nancy shrugs helplessly. "They're different, their priorities... I was working for the campus newspaper—"

He nods, remembering. "Yeah. Journalism major and everything."

She smiles a little at his recollection. "Well, I was dating another reporter, and I broke up with him, and it just..." She shakes her head. "Nothing felt good or _right_ anymore. I missed cases. I missed the four of us working together, tracking down clues, but Bess and George..." She looks down at her hands. "I realized the last time I was happy, really happy, was when I was with you. And it all seemed so stupid, after all we went through together, for us to break up the way we did, and I regretted it so much."

Ned hates the tremulous hope that rises in him at her words, the tentative way she meets his eyes. "I need time, okay?" he tells her. "You've had all this time to think about it and I've been moving on, and... maybe if we get to know each other again, it won't be the same..."

She studies his gaze. "Do you really think that's true?"

"I think I was losing you from the first moment I met you," he admits. "I was just waiting for you to realize that... and losing you again..."

"I understand." She looks down. "You... I know you saw other people after we broke up..."

"Just like you did."

She doesn't speak for a moment, but whatever she's trying to find the strength to say, she doesn't. "So do you still need help tomorrow?"

"You bet. Everyone else has abandoned me."

She reaches for his hand and squeezes it. "Well, I won't," she murmurs. "I guess I just need to prove that to you, huh."

\--

He sees her four times in the next two weeks. She spends three hours helping Ned and Steve with the flooring, and when she gets a text she asks if she can just take a quick shower, and vanishes into the bathroom. Ned hasn't put up a shower curtain yet and it's all he can do not to just forget and open the door and... well, if Steve weren't there, anyway. She emerges in a pair of skinny jeans with her hair skimmed back into a ponytail, and she gives him a timid pat on the arm when she's leaving, apologizing for leaving the rest of the work to them. And for a second, before she goes, their eyes meet and it would be so easy to just lean down and give her a kiss on the cheek, whisper a promise that he'll see her later.

They're at a discount store, picking up all those little things—she's there to remember whether he needs shower curtain rings, to grab the trash can liners when he remembers he needs trash cans—when he says, "So what happened in Bayport?"

She looks away from him, focusing instead on the price tags hanging on the two-liter drink bottles. "Short version or long?"

"Whichever." His voice isn't unkind, but he is having to hold himself back. He doesn't feel the same terrible urgency that he did when it happened, and he had accepted her brief text message at the time— _I'm home & ok_—but he hates that there are things he doesn't know about her anymore, and every time they speak he has to remind himself that they have been growing apart for eighteen months and she isn't the girl who walked away from him with tears in her eyes anymore.

She sighs. "Anderson was trying to get to the docks and we were intercepting—once he got the stuff onto a boat we knew we would never find him again. Joe was going to head him off and I was just keeping the exit under surveillance, and we didn't know his accomplice was already there." She sounds almost disgusted. "He shot me. I saw the flash and it was so quick, and they found me..."

"How long after?"

"I'm not sure," she admits softly. "I passed out—came to and Joe and Frank were staring down at me. Came to bleeding on the floor of the van. Came to screaming when the doctor started trying to find the path of the bullet. It was..." She shakes her head.

He takes the liners and spray bottles out of her hands and puts them in the cart, and she gives him a watery smile.

"I'm so sorry."

She shrugs. "You know, it was just another thing that helped convince me—I needed to find out how to really do all this, you know? The kind of tech to use, the people who are actually able to deal with this kind of stuff. We weren't. And now, well, I have a superpower—I can feel when it's going to rain." Her smile is crooked.

"Yeah, but I'm still sorry you had to go through that."

"Me too." She glances over at him and doesn't say whatever's on the tip of her tongue, and it irritates him a little, but there are a hundred things he hasn't said to her either.

She texts him the first night he's actually considering staying in the apartment. His bed is finally in, and he has a couch courtesy online classifieds. His bed's not made, though—the linens are in the trunk of his already crammed car—and cable won't be installed for another two days, but there's just something about looking around this place and knowing that it's _his._

_You eaten yet?_

_You in another time zone, Drew? It's 8pm. Late night?_

_Late night and craving for Chinese. Thought you might be interested._

_Grab me a couple egg rolls and some pepper beef, I'll pay you back._

_You just try, and I'll slap the money out of your hand ;)_

She grabbed a couple of drinks on the way in, and she's juggling the bag of food and two sodas, one diet and one regular. He has no coffee table and there are no paper plates so they wrangle everything over to the couch, put their drinks on the floor with paper towels for coasters, and just gaze at his silent television set.

"Thanks."

Her lips quirk up. "Damn, that's an exciting game you're watching."

"Well, it will be. Two days from now."

She nods. "So this is the quietest it'll ever be."

"Until Sonny and Jane start their D&D tournament. Things get crazy then."

She giggles, swallowing a bite of egg roll, a packet of duck sauce in her other hand. "Mmmm. I'd ask you for a beer but I have to work tomorrow."

"Hey, that never stops me."

She shakes her head and finishes the egg roll before she speaks again. "You've done a really great job with this place, Ned. It's really coming together."

"Thanks... I know I really shouldn't, Sonny and Jane are kinda nervous about this whole arrangement anyway, but I was thinking about having a housewarming party next Saturday. If you... you know, might want to stop by."

"Just let me know when the strip poker's gonna start so I can time my entrance and exit," she teases him. "So they signed a frat boy and they're nervous about loud parties?"

"Uh... the whole Omega Chi thing didn't really come up. And besides, compared to some of the other houses? We were saints."

"Mmm-hmm," she says, her skepticism clear. "Yeah, I was there the night of the winter formal, remember?"

He winces. "Yeah, but that was _one time._ "

"You gonna sing at this party too?"

He bumps her shoulder with his and they eat in silence for a while. He's patting his belly in satisfaction, reaching for his soda, when she puts the box of fried rice down, her chopsticks sticking out of the top, and scrubs the grease off her fingers.

"Do you know when I fell in love with you?"

He shakes his head, glancing over at her, his eyebrow rising.

"We were at Dino's and I said I wanted to go out to the Raybolt estate and you said you'd take me out there, and you were looking at me... and then you flagged down the waitress and asked for a drink refill for me, and I had never... you were looking at me, not through me, not at my boobs, just into my eyes—"

"Well, I might have snuck a glimpse," he teases her.

She smiles. "And then we went out there and you actually did help me look for clues without whining about how hot it was, or when we were going to eat again. And it didn't hurt that you were probably the hottest guy I'd ever met."

He flashes her a little grin. "You know when I fell for you?"

She shakes her head.

"In that second between me asking you out for the first time and you saying yes."

"That's a little presumptuous," she teases him. "If I'd said no?"

"Then I would have kept asking."

They both feel the charge between them when their eyes meet again, and it's the same one that's always been there for him, that will be there until the day he dies. He'll always be addicted to her; he just managed to kick the habit for a little while.

"Then I'll keep asking too," she murmurs.

He's always known he was strong but all the walls between them are starting to crumble, and he's finding less and less reason to put them back up.

\--

Ned doesn't know how Jennifer found out about the party. She walks in right after Howie, flashing Ned a grin, and he swallows the fucking awkwardness and curses whoever told her about it viciously, in the privacy of his head.

And, if anything, Jen looks better than she did when he graduated. Her smooth shoulders are slender and tanned with no lines whatsoever, and her strapless top leaves a few inches of her belly exposed above the low band of her cutoffs. The sex he had with her was incredible; if she had learned to stop badmouthing any other girl in her sightline and out of earshot while she was around him, Ned is sure they'd still be together.

She's smart about it, too. She circulates and only approaches him when he's alone in the kitchen, her lashes low and dark, a slow swing to her hips. "Nice place."

He shrugs. "It's not so bad," he says, taking a sip of his beer, and glancing over his shoulder when the music goes up ten decibels. "Hey, turn it back down, okay?" he calls.

Jen draws his attention back to her with the brush of her fingers down his shirt. "You don't look so bad either."

He smiles. "And you look fantastic, Jen."

Her pleased smile seems to promise she could easily be persuaded to stay over. Mike walks in calling over his shoulder to see if Jan wants another beer and sees them, and when Jen saunters off, Ned's gaze is on her hips, just the way she intends it to be.

"You gonna hit that again?"

Ned shakes himself a little. "The real question is how the fuck she showed up tonight," he points out, taking another sip of beer. "You didn't tell her."

Mike shakes his head, cracking his own beer. "No, but... Facebook. You invited Jack—"

"Didn't, actually," Ned points out mildly.

Mike shrugs. "And he's had a hard-on for her since they met..."

"Good for him."

Mike chuckles. "Ahh, come on," he teases his best friend. "What this party needs is a good catfight, and if Nancy sees Jen hanging all over you when she comes in..."

" _If_ she does," Ned replies. "She said she _might_ make an appearance."

"Good point. This is Nancy we're talking about."

He tries not to keep his eye on the door but whenever they hear another knock he has to look. Jen and Brittney are doing shots, sprawled out near the coffee table, and God, Jen's sexy when she's drunk, and—

And yet he knows when Nancy's there, feels it in a prickle down his spine, and he doesn't have to look but she's nervously pushing her hair back, smoothing the skirt of her navy-and-green striped dress over her hips. Another girl comes in with her, one Ned doesn't recognize, and Nancy crosses to Ned immediately, gives him a little hug, and introduces Jules. Jules's hair falls in a messy brown bob and she wears a predistressed shirt for one of Ned's favorite bands, and she giggles a little when she shakes his hand, pushing her plastic-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Well, that's amazing. Jules usually can't shut up," Nancy teases her, and Jules bumps her hip against Nancy's before Nancy glances back up at him. Nervousness fits her ill and he can feel it on her, maybe because it's been a while since they've been at a party together and there's everything and nothing between them now.

Jules vanishes and returns with a paper bag, and a few minutes later brings Nancy a drink that looks suspiciously watery. Jen vanishes into the kitchen too and brings Ned a martini, and the music is a little louder, he can feel it, but a part of him, distantly, doesn't care. Nancy's the one who walks over and twists the knob down.

For the rest of the night Jen finds excuses to touch him, to bring him drinks. She and Brittney dance to the music and Jules is grinning, doing a little shimmy to the beat, and Nancy sets her just-finished drink glass a little too firmly on the table, glancing between Ned and Jen.

She probably doesn't know about Jen. Maybe. Although Jen is being just as obvious as she was the first night he tangled his fingers in hers and led her up to his room at Omega Chi.

Jen acts clumsily drunk, her eyes sly under her low lashes, and begs him to go with her to get some air. He resists the urge to glance in Nancy's direction before he lets Jen lead him outside, stumbling against him and giggling. She says she's afraid she's too drunk to make it home and he offers his guest room, and that earns him a little pout. She mentions a trip she's taking with a few friends to Fox Lake for the weekend and begs him to go, and he puts her off. She tangles her fingers in his collar and tries to urge him down to her, and he gently pulls her hands free, guiding her back inside. From the flush in Nancy's cheeks, the fresh drink she's working on, he can tell she's noticed, but she looks away when he and Jen walk back in.

He's on the couch and Jen sits down on the arm, rubbing his shoulders, when Nancy comes over, her color still a little high, her gaze locked on him. He's sliding away from Jen's touch when Nancy says, "Can you help me with something?"

"Sure," Ned says immediately, pushing himself up and away from Jen's hand, and she crosses her arms, glaring daggers into Nancy's back as they go into the kitchen together.

"What's up?"

Nancy shakes her head. "Just thought you might want to get away from her?" she says, tilting her head.

Ned smiles. "Yeah. She's... I don't even know how she got here; I definitely didn't invite her."

"Well... with a girl like her, there are only a few approaches that will work."

"Oh?"

"We could plan it so she comes after us and finds us going at it on your kitchen counter..."

Ned swallows and it takes a moment for him to find his voice again. "Uh... well, yeah, there's always that."

He sees a wicked gleam in her blue eyes. "Or I could go in there and do what I always wanted to do when I saw some bitch's hands all over you."

"And what was that?"

"Grab a handful of her hair and yank it, tell her to get the fuck away from my man, and knock her cold with one punch when she tried to start something."

"I kind of misheard the end, because I _thought_ you meant 'pillow fight'..."

She shoves his shoulder gently, giggling, and he pushes her in return, and she falls against the side of the refrigerator, laughing louder. Her stumble is genuine, though, and he puts a hand on her arm to steady her, and oh, that spark between them is as palpable as ever.

She reaches up and cups his cheek, her blue eyes searching his.

"How much you had to drink, Nan?"

"Enough," she says, and grins. "Maybe a little more than enough... it's getting hard to... to walk straight."

"Tell me Jules isn't taking you home."

"Oh?"

"Because I'd feel awful if you went home like this."

"Well, I could stay and sober up," she says, and her thumb is stroking his cheek.

"Give me your keys. You can't drive like this, anyway."

She digs in the pocket of her dress and pulls out her familiar keyring. "You can't either."

"I have no intention of driving. Your overnight bag in your trunk?" She nods. "I'll go get it."

She chuckles again, her slender body bending at the waist as she closes her eyes. "I'll go with you. It'll be nice to get some air."

Ned can't help but notice that Jack is standing near Jennifer, even if Jen is still glaring in Nancy's direction when they walk out together, holding hands. Nancy clings to the handrail as they climb up the stairs, and halfway up she stumbles against him and he draws her close to him, his arm tight around her even when they're at ground level. He pops the trunk and she leans against her car, gazing at him.

"You trying to get me to stay over, Nickerson?"

"Perceptive as ever, Drew," he replies, shouldering her overnight bag. "It's okay, I'll take the couch."

"Not the guest bed?"

"Jen already kinda invited herself into that."

"Every man's dream, a harem of drunk girls," she says, a teasing gleam in her eye.

"Eh. I was never really into that," he says, shutting her trunk and heading back to the stairs. "One girl at a time for me."

Her fingers fold around his, and on the way down they both cling to the rail, laughing.

By three a.m. the party's died down. The counter is crowded with mostly-empty bottles and plastic tumblers, and Ned warns the last few stragglers to call cabs if they aren't okay to drive home. Nancy takes her bag into the bathroom to change and Ned cautiously cracks open the door of the guest bedroom, a little afraid of what he's going to find, imagining Jen sprawled naked on the bed waiting for him.

And there are some naked people in there, but none of them are Jen.

He opens his bedroom door and Jen is sprawled across _that_ bed, his bed, in her top and panties, her miles of long tanned leg shown to advantage. Ned shakes his head as Jen blinks innocently at him, stretching.

"There were... people in there," she says in a timid, tremulous voice, as though the problem was beyond her. "And we could... we could sleep in here, I swear I'll be good..."

For a very different value of the word 'good,' Ned is sure she will be. He shakes his head, even though he can't quite get the smile off his face, and heads out into the living room. One couch is already occupied, and Jack is snoring, his face gleaming faintly. Ned pulls the sleeper sofa out of the other couch, tosses a sheet over it, and goes back to his room just as Nancy opens the bathroom door, clad in a tank top and short cotton shorts.

"Ned?"

"Just a minute," he says, and walks back into his room. Jen pats the bed beside her, a small smile on her lips.

"You drank a lot, didn't you," he says sympathetically. "Too much to drive, huh?"

"Mmm-hmm," she nods.

"Poor baby," he says, sliding his arms under her, and she slips her arms up around his neck, her glittering eyes low-lidded.

They open wide, though, when he carries her out, past Nancy, and places her on the sleeper sofa. Jen scrambles to pull the sheet over her waist, scowling up at him.

"I'd hate to take advantage of a poor, defenseless drunk girl," he tells her, a faint smile on his face. "I'm sure you'll feel better in the morning."

Jen sits up, far too quickly, and she has her eyes on Ned as he walks back toward his room. Nancy opens her mouth to say something, but cuts it off when he grabs her hand, pulling her in with him.

He closes the door behind them and it's not the first time they've been alone since they've started hanging out again, but it's his room and Jen was in there, and...

"Was she naked?"

Ned shakes his head.

"Can you, like, Febreeze it anyway..."

He laughs, his hand tightening on hers before he releases it. "I'm gonna brush my teeth. Go ahead and lie down."

"Well, if you insist."

He checks to make sure the door is locked and the lights off, and Jack's snores have stopped, and he can hear Jen's voice, low in the stillness, murmuring something to Jack. Behind the guest bedroom door—well, if there's any room he'll need to Febreeze, it's that one.

Nancy's under his covers when he goes back to his room, her bra tossed on top of her backpack, but she's still wearing her tank top. Ned strips down to his boxers and climbs in with her, and they stay on their sides of the bed. He can feel the bed gently rocking under him, with the rhythm of his heart, responding to the alcohol in his blood.

Nancy releases a little sigh. "Thought it would be a while before this happened again."

"This?" Ned repeats with a smile, gazing up at the ceiling. "My policy is to not mess with drunk girls. So if you mean sharing the bed with a perfect gentleman, then yes."

She chuckles. "Must be a new policy. And the one about drunk girls who just want to feel your arms around them?"

"Well... I can make an exception. If the girl is special."

She pushes herself up, looking down into his eyes, and both of them are finding it hard to focus, to look straight, to speak without laughing, but they manage to do it for a long moment.

"I can't speak to that," she murmurs, and scoots a little closer to him, resting against his side, her head against his shoulder. He slips his arm around her, cuddling her close to him, and the utterly contented sigh she releases is echoed silently in him.

"This one is."

\--

He realizes he's waiting for the string of broken dates, distracted conversations, tearful admissions, but they don't come. In the month after the party she has to cancel on him once, and she apologizes for two full minutes and comes by after, the look on her face so anxious that he just has to kiss it off her. So he does.

The first few real dates are casual. They meet on her lunch break and then it turns into something they do almost every Friday, when work is light and they can get away. She comes by a couple nights a week and they order pizza or Chinese or pick up hamburgers, because being truly alone together like this is so incredibly novel. Jen finds out his number somehow and the three or four messages she leaves on his voicemail, he deletes without listening past the first second.

And then it's almost the end of the summer and when she asks if he wants to do something that weekend, he hates that Mike talked him into going on the damn lake trip. "You can come too," he says, hopeful.

"Wish I could," she says, sounding genuinely sad. "Stakeout Friday night... but you go, it's okay. We'll get together later."

"I'll make sure we're back by Sunday night," Ned swears. "And I still owe you for helping me clean up this place before I moved in. Let me take you out."

Those dates, the one where they actually dress up and go out in public to a place with real tablecloths and rolled silverware—they haven't had so many of those yet, and they aren't officially together again, but those nights are the closest to reminding him of what they used to have.

It's taken months—years, really—but he finally believes that she really _has_ changed, that what she told him is true. She'll take friendship if that's the relationship they can have, but after the last time she came over, after their kiss turned into her straddling his lap, his hands tugging at the hem of her shirt as his tongue slipped into her mouth... neither of them really want it to end there, not when they both know what they could have.

And what they _could_ have is something he's never truly had before. He's never had _her_. Oh, he's made love to her, he knows every inch of her, but to have _her_ , to be the first priority in her life instead of third or fifth or seventh, he's never had that.

"Mmm. Maybe Fontana Grill if you get back early enough?"

Ned chuckles. "And here I was expecting you to wipe me out—damn, Nan, you did a hell of a lot to help me out..."

"So you're saying you really want to take me to Alinea?"

"Maybe when I have four hours to kill and a rented tux and a _rent payment_ I'm willing to blow."

"I can't win with you," she sighs dramatically, but he can hear the smile in her voice.

"Fontana Grill. And next time we go to the lake..."

"Next time, give me a week's warning and I'll do my best to get up there," she promises.

He misses her with that same familiar helpless longing the entire time they're at the lake, his cell by his side so he can exchange a set of escalating, if sporadic, suggestive texts with her. By Sunday they're all tired and ready to get home, and Ned is dying to see her. From every message and every conversation they have, she seems to be feeling the same way.

For their dinner she wears a cream-colored chiffon dress with a ribbon sash tied at her waist, her hair in soft loose curls. They sample each other's pizzas and sip their beers and by the time they make it back to his place, the moonlight has cast the stairs in blue shadow, given a soft unearthly pallor to her cheek, and he's never been more sober in his life when he unlocks his door and ushers her inside.

"I missed you," she admits, as though she's been saving the sentiment until they were truly alone.

"I missed you too," he says, pulling her into his arms, lifting her up so their faces are level. "I would've had so much more fun hanging out here on the couch and watching TV with you."

She smiles softly. "Sure you wouldn't have had more fun with me there?" she says. "Playing in the water, maybe a new string bikini..."

"Well, I do so hate getting tan lines," he teases her, and she giggles.

"You do look damn hot in your swim trunks."

"And you look damn hot in anything," he says, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "You look gorgeous, Nan..."

Her smile falters, and she glances up into his eyes. "Ned... this summer... We've had a lot of fun, haven't we?"

He puts her down, nodding, watching with some amusement as she tugs down the hem of her dress. "It's been great."

"And every time we touch... I feel it again, that connection we've always had... and I want it again." The color rises in her cheeks, a little. "I know you said you needed time, and it's okay if you aren't ready..."

He cups her cheek. "I said I wasn't sure if we had changed too much, but, Nan... you're _here._ And every time I see you, every time I hear your voice, I feel like I'm getting addicted to you again." He gives her a half-smile. "And before it was miserable... and I know this isn't how it's always going to be, maybe we've just been lucky..."

She shakes her head. "I've been working on it," she says. "My work—I don't want my work to be my entire life, and I don't want to feel like I have to choose between you and it, not when you and my work both make me so happy."

"And so you've been keeping me out of it."

She nods, pushing her hair back. "I'm always going to love taking cases," she says. "And spending time with you. And when it's a job, when I clock in and out and I have to be responsible... it's easier for me to make time to come have dinner with you, to have something like a normal life."

"And a part of me misses that," he says, and chuckles when her eyes widen. "I know, it's strange... but when we used to go on stakeouts, when you'd take me out to help you look for leads, I liked being a part of your life that you love so much. When you don't tell me what you're working on, it feels like... like it doesn't make you happy anymore. Or like I'm not... an important enough person in your life for you to share it with me."

"Oh, Ned..." She reaches up and cups his cheek. "It wasn't like that, it was never like that. I just know how much it irritates you when my work is all I talk about."

"Well, most of the time work is all _I_ talk about," he points out. "So, I don't know. Just tell me about it. And maybe every now and then we could maybe do a stakeout or something..."

"A stakeout, or a 'stakeout'?" she asks with a grin. "Like those little 'stakeouts' we used to have at Flanders Field?"

"The ones that didn't involve burning a barn down, anyway." He brushes his fingertips over her cheek, trailing them down to toy with the collar of her dress.

She blinks. "It's so hard to leave you," she murmurs. "Every time it feels harder to leave."

He nods, gazing at her mouth. "God, Nan... it feels like I need you again. And it scared the hell out of me but I've stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop... and if you want this, if you really want to try this again..."

She nods, running her fingertips through his hair, down his cheek. "Please," she whispers.

"I love you, sweetheart," he whispers, and her eyes gleam in response. "I always have."

"And I love you," she whispers. "I always will."

The kiss isn't the first and it starts sweet, but it ends with them stumbling against the couch, pressed so close together, gasping and desperate. She pulls back and they're panting, her lips slick and flushed from the press of his.

"I—let me brush my teeth," she murmurs. "And then..."

"And then we can pick this up where we left off," he says, following her to the bathroom. They take turns at the sink, brushing their teeth, and he chuckles when she shoos him out, wondering what she's planning. He checks the drawer in his bedside table for lube and condoms, and tosses the covers back before he strips out of his shirt and jeans.

She walks in and his mouth goes dry when he sees her. She has her dress tossed over one arm, and she places it on the edge of his dresser, then stands in her underwear, gazing up at him a little nervously. She wears an ivory lace bra and matching panties, both trimmed in small black bows, and she's swallowing when his gaze finally traces back up to her face.

"You look... amazing," he whispers, and she smiles.

"So do you."

Her body is slim, her muscles defined, and there was a time that he could find his way down her spine by each individual bone, knew the taste of her skin.

She perches at the edge of his bed. "So let's get the awkward stuff over with," she says with a smile. "You clean?"

He nods. "You?"

"Yeah. And since I'm on the pill, can we forego the condoms?"

"Yeah. Thank God." He sits down beside her. "That's one thing I loved about you."

"Oh, just one thing? My general lack of enthusiasm for condoms was just one thing you loved about me?"

"Well, what I actually loved was the way it felt to fuck you bareback."

"Such a charmer." She closes her eyes when he gently traces her side, his fingers settling over the curve of her hip. "God, I missed this. You might have to take it slow, it's been a while..."

"Been a few months for me too," he admits, reaching behind her, and her eyes are low-lidded as he unfastens her bra. He draws it down her arms and her dusky nipples are already tight. "I think it's like riding a bike, though. I've got lube..."

She chuckles. "I said slow, sweetheart, not with training wheels..."

She reaches for him, swinging over him to straddle his legs as she kisses him, and he can feel her shiver when he cups her breasts. Their tongues tangle together and he leans back, until she's sprawled over him, her breasts pressed against him. "So what do you want," she whispers, and nips at his ear.

"What do you want?" he asks in return.

"I'm the one apologizing," she points out. "And maybe I could, uh, try..."

She props herself up so her ass is in the air and slips her hand between his thighs, cupping him through his underwear, and he looks up at her. "Hmm," he says, his voice a little strained as she strokes him. "You really want to?"

"I might still be bad at it. Haven't really had any practice doing it since you."

"That sounds like a fun story."

"Well, with you... you never insisted or just kinda cupped my head and forced me down there, and no matter how bad I was you were still willing to return the favor..."

"It's only fair," he agrees. "It's okay, we can practice that later..."

"You have absolutely no confidence in me," she accuses him, but her eyes are sparkling.

"It was always more fun to do when you were half-lit," he admits. "Or three-quarters lit." He strokes her cheek, his hips pushing up a little against her caress. "Tell me what you want."

She moves back to give herself space and begins to gently pull his underwear down, her gaze on his erection when she speaks, once he's totally naked. "I want you in control," she whispers. "On top of me. Slow and sweet until you can't hold back anymore... Tell me what you want."

"For you to take those damn panties off and ride me," he growls. "To watch you come while I'm inside you."

She slides off the bed to pull her panties off and he moves up so his head is resting on his pillow, but when she swings back over him, he cups her hips and rolls her onto her back, on her own side of the bed. She raises her eyebrows.

"We can get there," he promises. "I just want to see..." He kneels over her, beginning with slow wet kisses against her neck. "If you taste the way I remember."

She chuckles, and it turns into a moan as she threads her fingers through his hair, her knees parting as he suckles against her breast. She always loved it when he did that, and she was so sensitive, too; just the brush of his breath against the tight bud of her nipple made her arch under him. Even when she's groaning in frustration he still keeps teasing her breasts, making damned sure that she's wet for him, and when he finds the pale scar tissue marking the bullet's entry, he gently circles it with his fingers, and she sighs. He kisses it, gently runs the tip of his tongue around it, and breathes a prayer for her. She has scars now he doesn't remember from before, and she will have more before she's done. If she's lucky.

The cry she releases when he cups the join of her thighs, then slowly presses two fingers into the slick heat of her, is the single sexiest thing he can remember hearing in years. She parts her legs and angles her hips to give him better access, panting, and he keeps stroking her, moving back up so he can look into her face.

"We have to be quiet, okay," he murmurs, and when her brow creases in the pleasure of what he's doing to her he leans down and kisses her hard, swallowing her moan. He presses the entire length of his fingers inside her and feels her clench, and God, she feels so fucking tight, and she'll feel so good around him...

He rolls onto his back, reaching for her as she scrambles toward him too. "We have to be quiet?" she repeats with a little pout, panting as she swings her knee over him, getting into position.

"Don't want to wake them up," he explains, and he reaches for her hip, squeezing her as they angle his erection, as she just barely fits him inside her.

"I thought you—oh, oh _God_ —" She tips her head back, and he holds his head up a little, watching her slide down onto him, watching himself penetrate her. They're both panting by the time her hips are flush to his, and the color is high in her cheeks, her hair loose and messy as it tumbles down her shoulders. "I thought you liked when I was loud," she manages to gasp out. "Oh _God_ you feel so good."

" _You_ feel so good," he tells her. "I love when you're loud. I love when I make you come so hard you scream."

"Was that a dare?"

"Next time we go to the lake, baby," he promises, groaning when she pulls back, tilted back so he can watch their joining. She's so incredibly slick and fucking _perfect_ around him and she props her hands on his knees to keep her balance as she starts to ride him.

He doesn't want her to scream, he _doesn't_ , but he does want it, and soon he's doing everything he can to make her cry out her pleasure. He squeezes her nipples, his fingers still wet with her arousal, and then he finds her clit, rubs his thumb against it, and her slick inner flesh clenches hard around him. She pants desperately, riding him harder, tipping her head back, her breasts bouncing.

"God, Nan," he groans. "Fucking sexiest thing I've ever seen, baby. You feel so fucking good."

She moans, bringing her head back up, her blue eyes low-lidded. "Oh God, Ned, _God_ —" He feels her jerk against him, rutting against his hips, against his cock. " _God_ ," she squeals.

He digs his fingers hard against her hips, holding her to him as he feels his control start to break, and she arches backward, releasing soft whimpering cries as he thrusts his hips up under hers. He comes and the tips of her reddish-gold hair are like silk against his skin, and she pushes herself up to collapse down to him, her knees spread wide, their skin damp with sweat as she nestles her cheek against his shoulder. She intentionally tightens against him with a little moan, milking every last drop of him with the last clench of her orgasm.

It takes a long, long moment for them to catch their breath, and experimentally he licks his fingertip, tasting her. "You taste the same," he reports, and she chuckles, burying her face against his chest. Her brow creases when she pushes herself up and rolls off him, and with a sigh she reaches for a few tissues, cleaning herself up. He draws her back into his arms and she nestles to him, her skin hot and smooth against his.

"I love you," he whispers, gently stroking her hair back from her cheek. "Every second..."

She lightly traces her fingertips up and down the side of his chest. "I love you," she whispers. "One of the stupidest things I've ever done was walk away from you, and baby, I swear..."

He pulls her up so she's facing him, sprawled over him, and lightly cups her ass, traces his fingertips up her spine. "I know," he whispers, as she touches her forehead to his. "But I think we needed it, you know? I'll never in my entire life meet someone as fascinating as you, and it's finally _right_ , Nan..."

She brushes her lips over his in a slow kiss. "Yeah," she whispers. "I took you for granted, baby, and I promise I won't do that again."

He smiles. "This, the way we are right now, this is what I always wanted," he admits. "You with me, like this... I never let myself think it was even possible..."

She kisses him again, harder this time. "It wasn't," she whispers. "But you're right. I needed the time so I could realize just how much you meant to me. Even though it hurt."

They move under the covers, shivering, and she curls up against him, naked. He's almost drifted off when she mumbles, "Shit. Did you set the alarm?"

He groans. "Damn it, woman. You distracted me."

"By breathing?"

"By looking so damn sexy. Cuddled up next to me naked and expecting me to remember _anything_..."

He sets the alarm and bundles back under the covers, and she curls up with him again. "Sorry about that. But I think I have a solution..."

"Oh?"

Her voice is slow with exhaustion. "We fake an award letter to get the landlords out of town, lock the doors, turn off our cell phones, and fuck like rabbits all day Saturday." She chuckles. "I mean, unless you had something better to do."

"Some _one_ better to do than you? I think not."

She kisses his neck. "I love you," she whispers. "You're the best guy I've ever known."

He slides his arm around her. "Oh stop it, you're making me blush... or maybe just hard. Jesus, you were fantastic."

"Besides, I still need to see if you taste the same..." she says wonderingly, her voice bright with false innocence.

"You must not want to get _any_ sleep tonight, Drew," he growls, rolling onto his side and ruthlessly tickling her ribs, and when she begins to cry out, to beg him to stop, he muffles her with a kiss that leaves them both breathless, tangled together.

\--

They don't see each other again for four days, four fucking long days, and though they talk on the phone and text and email, it feels like an addiction again. There at the end, before, he had made himself pull away from her, knowing the entire time that just a taste of her would leave him shaking with desire. His hunger is monstrous and she has said she _loves_ him and he wants all of her now, wants every second either of them can spare to be together, wants to tell her every detail of his day and hear every detail of hers—

But when they see each other again, when she walks into his apartment in her jeans and a thin lavender button-down, they can't stop kissing long enough to do anything so mundane as hold a conversation.

"Dinner?"

"Later," she mumbles, kissing him one more time before she threads her fingers through his and leads him to his bedroom.

He takes over from there, kicking the door shut behind them, tugging her to him by their joined hands and pressing his mouth possessively against hers. She sets to work on his fly and he pushes her hands away, backing her against the mattress, and she groans in protest until he starts to unbutton her jeans in turn. He lets them gap open and swiftly unbuttons her shirt, and his tongue is in her mouth, he feels her gasp as he pushes his hand into her jeans, the tight fabric pressing his cupped fingers hard against the join of her thighs. He strokes her through her panties a few times and she arches against him. As soon as he just barely begins to feel her arousal dampen the fabric, he pulls back and she's flushed, her eyes blazing, desperate.

She shrugs out of her shirt and whips her bra off, and when the heel of her hand rubs against the bulge of his erection, he growls and tackles her to the bed, her breasts bouncing as she hits the mattress. She keeps stroking him until he takes her hands and pins them by the wrists to the bed, sucking her nipple into his mouth.

She immediately lets out a low, delighted moan. "God, that feels so good," she tells him, shivering when he circles the tight bud with his tongue. He moves to the other, and he's still suckling, feeling her move restlessly under him in response before he slips his hand into her jeans again, angling his hips so she can't get her hands on him again.

"Mmmmm— _fuck_ ," she whimpers, jerking when he draws the tip of his thumb against the slit of her sex, glancing it against her clit, through her panties. He rubs her harder and she pants his name between little mewling, desperate sobs. He gently bites her nipple and she surges, all of her surges against him. Her hips are still rocking a little when he pulls back and begins to tug her jeans down.

"Oh God, Ned, _please_."

"Please?"

"Get inside me," she begs, opening her legs to him as soon as he draws her panties down her legs, and oh God she's slick, he can smell her arousal, how ready she is for him. He climbs back onto the bed and she moves back to give him space, reaching for his fly again. "Please," she repeats, her skin golden in the dying evening light, and the most beautiful version of her he's ever seen is the one sprawled open to him and begging for his cock.

He thumbs his fly open as he traces his way down her belly, grinning as her panted breaths grow louder, more desperate. "Oh God, baby, yes," she whimpers, trembling when he circles her clit with the tip of his tongue, when he runs it down the slick folds of her hot flesh. She groans, arching, her hips trembling when he traces the opening of her sex with his tongue, as he tastes her. Her fingers are in his hair and she sobs as he teases her, dragging his tongue, the stubbled point of his chin, against her tender flesh.

He's loosely clasping his cock, his fingers tightening in time with her delighted moans, and when he senses that she's close to breaking he begins to kiss his way back up, pushing his clothes off, spreading her open for him. He reaches her neck and she wraps her legs around him, shivering as he sucks the point where her neck meets her shoulder. He dips his tongue into the hollow of her throat, his thumb just brushing her clit as he fits the tip of his cock inside her.

She cries out and he hears her scrabble for a pillow, and the next sound out of her is a full-throated scream, muffled by the fabric. He pushes halfway into her, rubbing her clit the entire time, and when he pulls the pillow out of her grip she gazes up at him, her blue eyes wet, her face flushed. "Oh fuck so good so good, baby, you feel so good," she babbles, biting off a scream as she arches, and he leans down, the taste of her still on his tongue as he kisses her.

And oh, oh God, she didn't know to do this before, she tightens hard against him when he presses his full length into her, and oh God, his throat is tight when he thrusts fully into her the first time, and her nails dig into his shoulder blades. He breaks the kiss just to hear her delighted sobs, and he tries to make it slow, but he's holding onto his self-control by his fingernails and he circles her clit the other way, thrusting harder, and when she cries out he nips at her lower lip and she kisses him back hard.

It feels like she's fighting him when he finds his rhythm, driving into her in rough strokes, and she's so fucking slick and hot against him and her teeth glance against his skin, her hips rocking back and forth. She undulates, writhes, and she screams into the hard muscle of his chest when she begins to come, her knees drawing back, her inner flesh spasming against him.

He grits his teeth and shifts the angle of his hips to push even more deeply inside her, and she tips her head back, her screams gone so high and desperate he can barely hear them. He's still circling her clit and she jerks in answer, tightening hard against him, and he finally lets himself come.

His heart is going to beat out of his damn chest. His lips brush her temple as he pants his breath back, and she rubs the crescent marks her nails left in his flesh as her legs fall open, as they begin to come down.

"Was that what you wanted?" he growls into her ear, and she chuckles as her fingers slide into his hair.

"God yes," she breathes, lazily tracing her toes down the back of his thigh. "You are fucking amazing."

He chuckles, pushing off her, returning to her with a washcloth.

"So I think you mentioned dinner?" she says. He wrinkles his nose at her, cleaning himself up before he pulls his underwear back on. "What? I need my energy. Especially if that wasn't the only entertainment of the evening."

"Entertainment?" He watches her slide down the bed and scoop up her bra and underwear, and they put themselves back together, their bodies still humming with sated pleasure. "Really?"

"Well, I know that if you're up for it," she glances down, then back up at him, her eyes sparkling, "later, what I have in mind will be _very_ entertaining."

"And if _tonight_ is gonna be very entertaining... Saturday?"

She smiles and takes his hand, leading him back out to the living room, where the television is still on. She scoops up her cell, scrolling through her contact list for the usual delivery places. "After Saturday, I'm expecting to not be able to _move_ by Sunday," she says, and glances over at him. "Care to help me out with that?"

He waits until she selects a number and places the call to tighten his fingers against hers, to lean in and place his lips against her other ear. "Every night and every weekend we can for the rest of our lives, baby."

She's biting her lip when he pulls back, and the voice at the other end of her call has to say hello four times before she can find her voice to respond.

She places their order and hangs up, sits down next to him on the couch, and he slides his arm around her shoulders, drawing her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Did you mean that?" she murmurs, gently rubbing her palm against his knee.

He brushes his lips against the crown of her head. "Every word."


End file.
